


Dark Hair, Trouble

by freeradicals



Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Original Character(s), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, The Cession (Motherland: Fort Salem)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24411979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freeradicals/pseuds/freeradicals
Summary: A reimagined post 1x09 where the unit plus some special guests go on the run from their future at Fort Salem only to end up running into their pasts.
Relationships: Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn
Comments: 23
Kudos: 124





	1. Chapter 1

It really felt like the woods shouldn’t be this dense. After years of wind-fights on the land and a sect of witches with a penchant for the inferno, Raelle had expected there to be less foliage to trek through. As a result she was, reluctant to admit, lost. 

She kept checking the compass and trudging over branches with a false sense of confidence and enthusiasm in the direction the motley crew of defectors was headed in. While in the Cession, she had heard about a crew that acted as for-hire mercenaries, devoid of political affiliation, yet still with a rigid code of ethics that prevented them from devolving into a trigger-happy terrorist organization. Raelle’s hope was when she found the group, they’d provide her unit a measure of protection while they sorted out what came next. You don’t flee Fort Salem without a plan and if you did, Raelle guessed you hoped that a bunch of ruthless killers might understand. 

“Do you know where we’re going?” Abigail grumpily muttered from behind Raelle.

“Yeah, we’ve got two more miles,” Raelle said, her voice faltering on the “yeah” and attempting to recover by “miles”. 

Abigail’s huff indicated she wasn’t convinced. Abigail had been against seeking out the mercenaries from their first step off base. Understandable given the catalyst for their traipsing through the overgrowth was the ruthless murder of innocent civilians and disregard for orders and those two things were exactly what the unit seemed to be headed for. But, Raelle was the first to admit they didn’t have that many options. 

Abigail was also a bit bruised. She had begged them to take Adil and Khalida along, but she’d been overruled. There was no time to locate them and convince them to come with a unit barely out of basic training hell-bent on attracting the ire of the most powerful military in the world. 

Tally had been suspiciously silent for the trek. Probably nursing her wounds over Gerit still, Raelle assumed. Raelle had to admit she was doing the same, but unfortunately, she couldn’t put any distance between her and the object of her affection, or rather her misfortune. Scylla trudged quietly behind Tally. Between being broken out of prison and starting to go on the run, she hadn’t had a chance to explain anything to Raelle. She was in the precarious position of being both indebted to Anacostia who was taking up the rear and wanting to absolutely punch her lights out for turning Raelle against her. 

“We should stop for a bit,” Tally suggested timidly, knowing she wouldn’t be listened to. 

“Tal, we’ve got to keep moving. We don’t know what’s out here,” Abigail said as gently as she could. 

Tally exhaled a short breathe and shrugged her shoulders leaving them drooping. 

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” she said. Abigail tossed her a sympathetic look. What a sorry group they were. Heartbroken, disillusioned and scared. Not exactly a good start to their grand decampment from the establishment. 

Anacostia moved up from the rear. She gently put her hand on Raelle’s arm, careful to pick her feet up over fallen, rotting branches, so as not to pull them both down.

“Hey, do you want me to walk in front and whip these branches down? Could save us some time?” 

“Oh, yeah. That's actually a good idea,” Raelle said wondering why that hadn’t dawned on her. 

Anacostia gave her a small smile, the quick upturn of her mouth making her eyes go from dark and concerned to conspiratorial and reassuring. They were in this together and while Raelle’s mind was occupied with matters of the heart, Anacostia figured someone should be concerned with the logistics of getting them safely to their destination, even if she wasn’t completely onboard with decamping to the home of violent assassins. But, wasn’t that what they were? Killers of innocent people with blind faith in a leadership that had never protected them. 

Anacostia suddenly could feel herself wielding the whip with more force, snapping the branches violently with each swing feeling a catharsis she couldn’t achieve with simply acknowledging her emotions. The betrayal and sadness welled up in her and with each twitch of her wrist she could feel it coursing through her forearms. 

“Woah there,” Raelle said. “We’re stepping off the scorched earth approach, remember?” 

Anacostia glanced back and took a deep breathe. Raelle was right. It felt like she was shedding all her training in emotional control and measured approaches, leaving it lying on the forest floor along with the snapped branches.

“Hey! Is that it?” Tally yelled. She wasn’t excited at the prospect of settling into this new home so much as she was of not walking. She’d spied a spire of smoke twisting up towards the sky and what looked like a hodge-podge of stones, bushes and small trees creating a ten-ish foot wall with tent tops visible just beyond the top of a small incline.

Raelle peered around Anacostia to look at the beginnings of the camouflaged clearing.

“I’m pretty sure it is. Should we come up with a game plan?” 

Both her and Anacostia had come to a crawl weighing their options and emotions. 

“There’s no point. We’ve come this far without one, why should we start now?” Abigail said bitterly, brushing by Raelle and Anacostia, full speed ahead toward what looked like a gate. Sticks had been sharpened to a point and fastened together with wire then attached to what appeared to be repurposed door hinges and chained to trees that began the makeshift barricade. 

It was Raelle’s first inkling that they weren’t just dealing with nomadic travelers who happened to sometimes used their powers for evil instead of good. These were well-prepared, forward-thinking people and it was probably in her best interest not to take her signature brand of snark beyond those stakes. 

Abigail wasn’t necessarily thinking along the same lines as she barreled forward towards the gate. 

“WAIT! STOP!” Raelle yelled.

“What?” Abigail demanded accusatorially, her eyes boring into Raelle’s, but stopping short of her next step.

Raelle rolled her eyes at Abigail’s bullishness. 

“There’s a trap there.” 

She pointed down at the ground where Abigail’s foot was inches from a thin, trip wire in the dirt. 

“Try thinking with your head instead of how pissed you are,” Raelle said stepping forward, her whip in hand. “Step back,” she said. 

Abigail moved behind Raelle standing in a line with the others as Raelle swung her weapon high overhead before bring it down in a decisive arc to cut the wire. 

Suddenly a high pitched whine rang out over the forest. The troupe clamped their hands down over their ears, doubling over in agony. 

Raelle looked back apologetically, wincing. She’d really thought this was going to be more of an arrows flying or shooting flames situation. So, she surmised, this group had a vested interest in keeping out wandering witches. That made the two of them. 

When Raelle turned back, she was relieved see the trap triggering had gotten the camp’s attention in a “let’s go see what’s out there” vibe rather than “let’s immediately kill the trespassers on site”. She spotted two stately women wielding whips standing outside the gate, gazing down the hill. They wore variations of the Fort Salem uniform minus the gaudy medals. Their’s involved a lot more black leather, which Raelle didn’t necessarily mind. 

“We’ve been expecting you,” one of them said with authority. “This way.”

The two of them turned, the gate opening of its own accord. 

Raelle turned back to look at the others skeptically. She didn’t appreciate the frigid, eyes-in-the-sky welcome, but it’s not like they had many other choices. She found Abigail’s eyes. Abigail shrugged and glanced at Tally who did the same. This was turning into their new normal. Making guesses and hoping they didn’t find themselves in a coffin on the other side of them. 

The group moved up the hill silently and in step. They were still soldiers after all. They filed one after the other though the narrow passageway and entered what looked like a mini-civilization. The wall it turned out didn’t just protect the front of the encampment, but circled all the way around. If you had just been walking by you might have thought it was an anomaly of nature, a Mother Nature made fortress. 

The perimeter was dotted with tents, but they were far from what Raelle was used to camping in as child. A few had their entrance flaps pulled back and Raelle could see these were made out of what looked like incredibly sturdy wood and reinforced canvas, They appeared to comfortably slept four people, with what appeared to be two bunk beds on either side separated by an ornamental rug and with two desks nestled at the foot of the bunks. 

The middle of the encampment was dotted with less ornate tents, each with their own designation. One looked like a food store with crates of vegetables stacked, farmer’s market style with ovens behind them cooking what Raelle hoped was food they’d be generous enough to share. Another held long tables with stumps tucked underneath for seating. Another looked to hold a bar littered with liquor bottles and another held shelves of books weathered by, well the weather. People dressed in similar outfits to their escorts milled about in all of them, talking and chatting, even laughing. They all held whips on their hips, but nothing else suggested they had a penchant for bloodshed.

The space was shockingly open air and Raelle wondered how they protected it all from the elements. She felt a tap on her shoulder. 

It was Tally and she was pointing opened mouthed at the sky. 

“Look. Do you see it?” 

At first Raelle couldn’t see what Tally was talking about and thought maybe the lack of sleep had made her brain malfunction, but then as the sun shifted through the trees she noticed it. There was a slight shimmer to the sky in here, almost like the heat that rises off the tin roofs in the Cession on those particularly brutal summer days. They must have some kind of force field around the top creating a dome of impenetrability for their little sanctuary. To Raelle, this felt less like the fortress of super killers and more like a peaceful, tranquil spot for pacifists. 

“How did you know we were coming?” Abigail asked the two women as they were led to what looked like a campfire off to the side of one of the larger tents around the perimeter. 

That had been bothering Anacostia too. Did they have spy in Fort Salem? Had somebody been watching them from among the trees? Her paranoia was growing. She feared that General Alder would know where they had gone and send a reconnaissance team to extract them in what she could only assumed would not be a gentle manner.

“We’re not at liberty to discuss,” one of the women replied. “Please take a seat and Cealy will be with you. We’ll bring you something to eat and drink.”

The five looked apprehensively at the spot. Raelle felt like they were unlikely to be murdered out here in front of the entire encampment and decided she’d had enough of evaluating every decision for the potential it may end her life. She plopped down on the ground reclining on her pack and immediately felt the tension flow out of her legs. The others followed suit. 

Raelle glanced over at Scylla sitting on a log next to Tally whose eyes suddenly glistened with tears as though she’d suddenly registered what was happening to them. Abigail’s brow was furrowed as she scanned the new habitat. Only Anacostia had laid down and closed her eyes. 

Raelle had heard very little about whoever Cealy was, but she was left to assume it was the group’s leader. She’d heard about her in the Cession. There were whispers that some of the shipments of food and supplies that made their way to her community were from this group. She was left to assume Cealy was Cession-born or at least had an allegiance to her homeland. Hopefully, this would endear Cealy to Raelle and by extension her unit, who were badly in need of the aforementioned food and drink. And she could make nice use of one of those bunk beds, if given the chance.

Reflexively, her eyes traveled over to Scylla who had followed Anacostia’s lead and put her hands in her head, flittering fitfully between sleep and wild-eyed alertness. It hurt Raelle to see Scylla so unsettled, but then Raelle remembered the whole being Spree bit and the acid rose in her stomach. She didn’t have time for sympathies towards someone who betrayed her, even if she knew that among all the hurt, she still loved her. 

Raelle was thankful when someone appeared with a platter of what looked like chicken, bread and some sort of root vegetable to distract her from nursing her emotional wounds. It was placed on a suspended tray above the fire, which was lit to keep the food warm. Jugs of water were placed next to the stones that surrounded the flames and a small flask of something nestled next to those. The person who brought them, a striking, dark haired woman with half her head shaved and a metal rod through her upper right eyebrow, winked at Raelle.

“A little something to take the edge off,” she said. 

Raelle reflexively blushed and looked down towards the ground. Dark hair, trouble. Just her type.

She felt Scylla’s eyes on her and when she looked up Syclla was contemplating her with a mixture of sadness and hurt, but only if Raelle looked closely at the corners of her mouth and eyes. To anyone else, it might have looked as though Scylla was staring straight through Raelle. 

Tally scrambled toward the food helping herself to heaps of the chicken and inhaling bread between gulps of water. 

“Going to save some for the rest of us?” Abigail said. Her question came out harsher than she meant it, so she quickly softened it with a chuckle as Tally shrugged and dug into what Raelle now saw was potatoes. 

The rest followed suit munching in companionable silence. But, the tension was there, weaving its way among the flames and the heat and the dirt and the wood. The truth of what they’d done, what they were about to do and the people they’d left behind or brought with them. It all settled there, clinging to them like their uniform did after a basic training run. It was enough to drain Raelle completely of any strength she thought she’d accumulated since she’d arrived at Fort Salem, a place she now realized, she might never be able to set foot in again. 

So much for finding a new home, she thought, as she bit into another piece of chicken. 

There was a whoosh behind her and the tent flap opened to reveal, Cealy. The commander was certainly dark hair and trouble. She stood almost 6 feet tall, with striking, ornate tattoos stretching from her wrists to her shoulder blades, which like the rest of her physique, was incredibly toned. Her eyes were different colors depending on what way the light hit them, blue one second, green the next and brown in the shade. Her thighs looked like they could crush skulls, her hands too and the way she stood suggested the crew should think better of testing her physically. Her cheeky, half-smile suggested they weren’t wise to try mental combat either.

Suddenly, Raelle realized this wasn’t someone she didn’t know. Raelle simultaneously almost dropped her chicken, choked and gasped. The combination of half doing all of those things left her doubled over coughing, eyes watering as Anacostia forcefully thumped her back. She willed her trachea and esophagus to get on the same page and sucked in air, righting herself. She met Cealy’s eyes. 

Cealy smiled in the conspiratorial way Raelle knew so well, her eyes twinkling in the setting sun. 

Then, everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raelle decides to confront her past, but it turns out feelings you bury don't always stay that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone for the comments on the last chapter! The support and encouragement is really appreciated :) Hope you enjoy the new one!

Raelle woke up on the edge of a nightmare involving General Alder and a heavy dose of revenge to find everyone asleep and the tent shrouded in darkness. The last thing she remembered was Tally and Abigail helping her into bed. It turned out, Raelle hadn’t cleared her trachea as thoroughly as she thought she had or rather, she had forgotten to breathe, and ended up hitting her head on a tree stump in the process of passing out. Now she found herself lying on the bottom of one of those bunks she’d coveted, in the middle of the night with humiliation seeping in around her.

She glanced across to see Anacostia slumbering on the bottom bed with Tally on the top one, which left either Scylla or Abigail on the one above her. As she rolled out of bed and almost tripped over a lump on the floor, she realized Abigail had, in an unprecedented act of generosity, decided to take the floor. 

Raelle was parched, the dry air clawing its way through her nostrils and into her irritated throat. She crept out of the tent, taking careful consideration not to glance back at Scylla. She didn’t want to know if Scylla had seen her get up. The campsite was peaceful, the farmer’s market crates packed up and stacked, the liquor bottles carefully stowed away, the campsites organized and swept clean of debris. 

Raelle was impressed with the mercenaries organization and cleanliness. It would have taken a creative series of threats to get the mess hall at Fort Salem this tidy. She glanced towards Cealy’s tent saw a soft light seeping out the bottom. After picking her way carefully over to the water faucet and drinking enough to drown a small animal, she straightened her back, holding her head high and made her way towards Cealy’s tent. It was better she confronted Cealy and the uncomfortable part of her past that went with knowing her, earlier rather than later. 

When she got to the tent’s entrance she encountered the problem of how to announce her presence. Was she supposed to knock? Swing the flap of canvas back and forth? She went to attempt a soft rapt on the material when she felt an uncomfortable and painful zing shoot up her arm and through her body as though she was being electrocuted from the inside out. She thought she heard Cealy chuckle and then, in that mistakably honey-rich voice, “Come in. It’s spelled.” 

Raelle ducked through the entrance to find Cealy at a large, impressive and ornate wooden desk, glasses perched on the edge of her nose, chewing thoughtfully on the end of her pen. 

So, Raelle thought, she still did that. 

Cealy looked up and smiled. In that moment, Raelle’s subconscious inadvertently unearthed a memory from long ago of Cealy noshing on the end of a ballpoint pen in-between scribbling healing spells on the back of the Cession-issued notebooks they’d toted around. 

Raelle blinked to relive herself of the scene.

“Why’s it spelled?” Raelle asked. Maybe, if she stayed on logistics she could think a little clearer. 

“Can’t have people just barging into the General’s quarters, now can we? How’s the head?” Cealy asked.

Raelle smarted at the reminder of her spectacular embarrassment and shrugged as though she’d completely forgotten about it.

Cealy took off her glasses and reflexively rubbed the bridge of her nose. Setting down the glasses and pen, she clasped her hands together and leaned forward on her elbows, studying Raelle as she settled into one of the two ornately carved high back chairs across from the desk.

Raelle could feel herself slipping back into her role of Cealy’s awe-struck admirer and there was Cealy, inhabiting the role of the admired, like she was born to play it. 

Raelle decided to abandon her plan to limit the sarcasm in an attempt to establish some sort of dominance in this increasingly fraught situation and leaned back in her chair, kicking her legs out in front of her and crossing her ankles. 

“So, General, huh? Not straying too far from the Fort Salem blueprint, even if you’re just for-hire and not for country.” 

Cealy frowned, but her expression suggested instead of setting up for a battle of wits, she was living in confusion.

“Does this look like Fort Salem, Raelle? Because that uniform suggests you’re the only one whose been playing ball with those government sanctioned murderers. Not me.”

“I’m not playing ball anymore,” Raelle retorted. She was too tired not to let the hurt she felt at being labeled one of them show. It was too exhausting sometimes to lock away all the things she kept hidden.

Cealy pursed her lips and unclasped her hands, cracking each knuckle individually. Raelle knew this meant Cealy didn’t know what to say next. 

“Rae, I’m tired, you’re tired. Why don’t we save this conversation for tomorrow, when you’ve had some of our truly spectacular coffee.” She smiled a little. “It’ll make you feel alive.” 

Without thinking, Raelle opened her mouth. 

“Like you used to?”

Cealy face dropped and memories of moments shared in the shadows flittered across it for the briefest of seconds. Then she steeled herself against the psychic imprint loving Raelle Collar had left on her heart.

“It’s been a long time, Rae.”

“Yeah, long enough of a time that you’ve found a whole new name, a whole new identity.” Suddenly Raelle was up on her feet, pacing back and forth, the energy and exhaustion of the last 48 hours moving its way through her and out into the limited space. Hurt that she thought had left her years ago came rushing to the surface, threatening to consume her if she didn’t put it somewhere or on someone.

“You said, we were in it together. That there was no you and I, just a ‘we’. Where I went, you would follow.” 

Raelle stopped in between the chairs and stared down Cealy. Those words had played over and over in her head. She’d long come to believe they were lies, but after everything with Scylla she was re-considering they might have been true.

Standing there, looking at Cealy, it dawned on Raelle while she thought she knew this person, she didn’t. She had known someone else. She’d known an authoritarian loathing, outspoken teenager. She’d known a girl who dreamed of getting out of the Cession, building a community, a home for herself away from oaths and conscription and battles. She’d known someone who had tricked her into believing that forever, was forever and left her feeling like a fool when it wasn’t.

But, she wasn’t going to be the wide-eyes, naïve prey this time, the one to be targeted. Cealy didn’t have that power over her anymore. No one did.

Cealy stared back at her. 

“I’m not doing this, Rae. I’m not going back and forth with you whether or not what I’ve done-did-is right or wrong. I’m happy to talk about how I got to here,” she said pointing at the desk, “when you’re ready to own up to how you got there.” She gestured at where Rae was standing defiantly, uniform askew, cuts dotting her face and arms, either from their reckless escape or the endless tree branches she’d swatted to get here. 

Raelle felt the fire drain out of her. Cealy had an annoyingly uncanny ability to lift the righteous indignation out of Raelle’s hands and steady her, never engaging in the war Raelle was raging. Raelle took a deep breath to center herself, like she was in training and someone had just made fun of her. But, instead of making moves to windstrike Cealy across the room as she would have done to the imaginary, insolent private, she sat back down and let her gaze drop to the floor.

Raelle had tried snark and anger, she decided it was time to try honesty. 

“You’re right. I’m tired and I don’t think I have the energy to talk about how I got here, right now. I just…” she started trailing off looking up from her feet. 

Cealy held her eyes steady on Raelle’s face, their openness and encouragement building Raelle’s courage to say whatever she felt too scared to. Cealy’s knack for this kind of reverse psychology truth serum used to make Raelle feel so safe. 

But, eventually, this look was the only thing Raelle could remember about Cealy and the space around the memory filled up with resentment and anger, coloring the way Cealy’s face looked in Raelle’s mind, turning it an ugly, awful shade of betrayal.

Now, facing it in actuality once again, Raelle was struck by how it ignited a familiar warmth in her that tunneled right through the night’s chill.

“You’re just what?” Cealy implored. 

Raelle met her eyes. How she’d missed being the sole focus of them. It was more intoxicating than any moonshine the privates managed to concoct in the dormitory bathroom sink.

“I just thought I’d never see you again,” Raelle said. 

Cealy snorted softly, but not like she thought what Raelle said was ridiculous, but like she didn’t believe it. She picked up her pen again and rested it against her lip.

“I always thought I’d see you again, Rae. In this life or the next. I don’t know what time has done to your memories of us, but it’s been kind to mine,” she said smiling sadly.

Raelle decided she couldn’t take being in the tent any longer, with this much of the past keeping her company, so before the remembering suffocated her, she got up and straightened her uniform. 

“I look forward to trying the coffee,” she said. 

Cealy looked at her, smiling, and Raelle felt that familiar buzz, like she’d aced a test no one else knew the answers to. 

“I’m glad. Sleep tight, Rae.” 

Raelle turned and left the tent, unsure if the zap she felt on the tent’s flap was from the spells or the hum that was coursing through every cell in her body. 

She crossed the campsite to the unit’s tent and as she stepped through, she looked up to the top of her bunk without thinking. She found herself locking eyes with Scylla who was sitting up in bed at the disturbance. Raelle she realized a split second too late, she’d been smiling to herself on the way in. She dropped the grin and hoped it was too dark for Scylla to register it. Scylla quickly turned over in bed and Raelle’s hope of that being true fleeted along with the slight high she’d gotten from her conversation with Cealy.

She wondered how far she’d go this time just to get it back. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its morning and Raelle and Scylla are riding emotional rollercoasters neither of them can seem to stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all the comments! I know some people are concerned about Scylla and Raelle's future in this one, but I can assure you, this one's about their journey back to each other, just with a few bumps along the way.

The next morning Raelle awoke to an entirely empty room. It was eerie to be alone with no one around when she’d spent the last several months of mornings always in the company of her unit, or, she remembered with a gut punch, Scylla. She missed the rattling of the top bunk above her as Tally crawled down or the huff of Abigail pulling on her boots, but she couldn’t let herself think of those mornings with Scylla. What the light did Scylla’s sleeping face when it filtered through the curtains, what Raelle’s hands did to her body when she finally woke up…

Raelle swung her legs over the edge of the bed and planted her feet on solid ground. She tried to regain some control of her senes by plotting her next steps, but she had to be honest with herself, at this point, she couldn’t even decide where to start. What were her options, anyway? Confront Cealy about what had happened between them? Confront Scylla about what had happened between _them_? Return to Fort Salem and beg for mercy? Crawl up into a ball and hide forever? 

The last one sounded most appealing and the begging for mercy option was out of the question, leaving her with two confrontations she desperately wanted to avoid. One for fear of what it meant for her future and the other because she thought she had left the past buried and she’d prefer it stayed that way. Her stomach growled, interrupting her spiraling thoughts, and she could feel the beginnings of a caffeine headache inching its way towards the center of her brain. She could give up on planning for emotional warfare until at least lunch. 

She realized she didn’t know where the bathroom was nor had she showered recently. She figured the showering, like the planning, could wait, but she hoped there’d be some semblance of outdoor plumbing. As she stepped outside into the sun, she shielded her eyes searching desperately for on outhouse. 

“It’s the large wooden structure over on the edge,” Anacostia said, appearing seemingly out of thin air in front of Raelle.

“Thanks,” Raelle said.

“And everyone else is at breakfast over there,” Anacostia said gesturing toward the large, mess hall-type tent in the middle of the clearing. 

“Thanks, again,” Raelle said, secretly hoping that “everyone else” didn’t include Scylla. 

“No problem,” Anacostia said. She hesitated like she was about to continue.

“Anything else?” Raelle said.

“No, Private. That’s all,” Anacostia said before heading into the tent. 

Raelle shook her head and made sure her slight chuckle couldn’t be heard in the tent. You could take the Anacostia out of Fort Salem, Raelle thought, but you could not take the Fort Salem out of the Anacostia. 

Raelle turned toward the bathroom and headed inside what was essentially a large outhouse. Lining one wall were stalls with wooden doors and across the way, showers. Raelle had to admit she was impressed they were able to rig plumbing and made a mental note to see if there was a water supply nearby in case she needed to escape and sail far, far away. 

After a perfectly pleasant visit to the latrine, Raelle headed towards the mess hall tent. Set-up along one table was more bread, potatoes and what looked like some sort of fish confirming her water source theory. The coffee Cealy mentioned came out of jugs and into a tin mug Raelle took from the hands of one of the mess hall attendants. 

She gave a curt nod and a gruff, “Thanks”, still weary of the happy-go-lucky vibe of the place, before moving off to the table where her unit, and thankfully sans Scylla, was seated. She took a sip of the coffee and had to admit, it was actually pretty good, although, she was hoping to avoid Cealy enough to never have to give her a review. 

She plopped down next to Tally and across from Abigail. The usual breakfast formation. If she stared down at her plate and pretended it was cereal, it almost felt like it was basic. The overwhelming desire for familiarity knocked the wind out of her and she had to grab onto the edge of the table to steady herself. Suddenly, there were two hands on top of her’s. 

Raelle looked up and found Tally and Abigail looking at her with concern. 

“You okay, Collar?” Abigail asked popping the crust of her bread into her mouth.

“It’s okay if you’re not. You took a real spill last night, anyone would be a bit shaken up,” Tally offered.

Raelle took a deep breathe. She felt like if she held everything in a second longer, she would burst.

“I know her,” Raelle said. 

“I know,” said Abigail shrugging. “And we trust you. If tell us she’s not Spree anymore, she’s not.”

“No, not Scylla,” said Raelle. “Cealy.”

“What?” Abigail and Tally said simultaneously, their heads snapping up towards Raelle.

“From the Cession,” Raelle said lowering her head, so the others around them couldn’t hear. “We went to school together.” 

Abigail looked at Raelle incredulously. 

“And that’s why you fainted at the sight of her? Because you were so shocked to see her outside of math class?” Abigail stabbed at her plate and pointed her fork at Raelle. “I find that highly unlikely.” 

Tally looked at Raelle sympathetically. 

“She does have dark hair and..” 

“Trouble, I know,” said Raelle. She kept her head bowed.

Abigail reached her hand across the table again placing it gently in front of Raelle’s plate. 

Raelle looked up into Abigail’s surprisingly kind eyes. 

“You can tell us the truth, you know,” Abigail said. She glanced across the table at Tally. “I know we haven’t always been the most supportive of your choices, but it’s one for all and all for one, at this point, right? We’re a unit. We’ve got to trust each other.” 

Abigail offered Raelle a smile she hoped conveyed how much she truly meant it. They were all each other had. 

Tally nudged Raelle. “Ditto,” she said.

Raelle took another deep breathe. 

“She was my first, you know?” Raelle said. She glanced up at them nervously. “My first um, everything. Like, crush, love. She made me realize, you know, um.” 

Raelle was turning crimson and she could feel her collar tightening around her throat, the synthetic fabric itching against the skin she was increasingly aware she was in. 

“She made me realize my type was dark hair, trouble and uh, girl,” said Raelle. “But, everything with her is in the past. At least, I mean, I think it is. I just didn’t expect to ever see her again and it’s uh, a lot. We didn’t really end on the greatest of terms.”

Raelle couldn’t tell if she was suffocating under the weight of the embarrassment of having to recount her juvenile escapades in romance or the shame of having once been in love with someone who now ran something that was tantamount to a crime organization. 

“Hey,” Tally said. “It’s okay. We all have pasts."

“I know,” Raelle said. “I just didn’t expect mine to show up here. Speaking of which, where’s Scylla?”

Tally and Abigail looked at each other. 

“Um,” Tally began while simultaneously Abigail started with, “Well.” 

Raelle knew this act. They were hiding something.

“What? What is it?” Raelle said. She didn’t want imagine what was about to come next. Had Scylla ran off? Was she hurt? Was she in trouble?

It was still uncomfortable for Raelle to register Scylla as both a-maybe-possibly enemy and her maybe-possibly ex-girlfriend, especially when she didn’t want Scylla to be either of those things. But, she didn’t feel like she had much of a choice.

“We think she’s probably looking around the grounds” Abigail said, hesitating. “By herself."

“Wait, what? You guys let her wander off by herself?” Raelle said almost choking on her coffee.

“Oh no, not this again,” Tally said as she pushed a water cup towards Raelle stifling a laugh.

“Maybe hold off on drinking while talking for the time being,” Abigail said looking simultaneously concerned and amused.

Before, Raelle could pull herself together, the rest of her unit was in a fit of schoolgirl giggles clutching their sides and wiping tears away from their eyes.

“It’s not even that funny,” Tally said gasping for air. “But, just the idea, that we’d get this far and you’d go like this.”

“No, it’s not,” Raelle said indignantly. “I could be choking to death and you guys would just be laughing!” 

But, Raelle found that she was smiling too. It was good to see her friends not looking grave and grief stricken. 

“I’ll hold off on multi-tasking at the table,” Raelle said, regaining her breathe along with the other two. “Now, can you tell me, why is Scylla just wandering around instead of being watched in case she decides to play Scylla the Spree, again?”

“Anacostia told us we didn’t need to watch her anymore,” Tally said. “She said she wasn’t a flight risk given the level of security here and it might be best if we just give her some space. I think they might have gotten all buddy-buddy down in that prison bunker,” Tally said, almost apologetically.

“Most likely she’s off getting the lay of the land should she decide to join up,” Raelle said. “This place seems like it fits her traitor-y, murder-y vibe.”

The table lapsed into uncomfortable silence. Tally and Abigail were unsure of whether or not they should join in on the Scylla slander or if that was strictly Raelle’s jurisdiction for now, despite both of them itching at a chance to windstrike the little Necro into oblivion.

Raelle shrugged, trying to dial back on letting on much Scylla’s presence or lack thereof was unsettling her. “I trust Anacostia. All for one and one for all right?”

“I bet you don’t love the idea of her walking around out there with your ex, though,” said Abigail. Tally shot her a look, more of a death glare really, signaling to Abigail that she’d forgotten to use tact again.

“Well, I guess once they figure out they have breaking my heart in common, they can just swap notes on how best to disappoint and betray me,” said Raelle.

“Speak of the devils,” Tally said muttering underneath her breathe as Cealy and Scylla approached. 

“Hey, team,” Cealy said. “Just bumped into Scylla and wanted to show her the way back here.”

——————————————————————————————————————————-------------------------------------------------

_Earlier that morning…_

Scylla woke up at daybreak, the cracks of light seeping through the bottom of the tent. She forgot where she was for a second. She lifted her hands in front of her face to make sure she wasn't shackled to the bed and was surprised to find her wrists bare. Anacostia had assured her when they’d fled Fort Salem that she wasn’t a prisoner anymore, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of being trapped. 

Suddenly, the tent seemed far too small and the darkness much too large. She swung her legs over the bed and climbed down the ladder as quietly as she could, taking care not to step on Abigail as she made her way to one of the abandoned bonfire sites outside the tent. 

She wasn’t particularly fond of the youngest Bellweather, but she didn’t think waking her up by accidentally crushing one of her toes would earn her any favors. Scylla was acutely aware she was not on particularly good terms with Raelle’s unit. Especially with Raelle.

Scylla wasn’t even sure where the two of them stood. 

Raelle had barely talked to Scylla after Anacostia had dragged her to the outskirts of Fort Salem and as the unit had taken off into the foliage surrounding the base, everyone seemed to want to be as far away as possible from Scylla, leaving her to take up the tail end of the procession. 

She’d considering splitting, running off into the woods, trying to make her own way. Even if she had both the Spree and the army coming after her, she was familiar enough with running from the law that knew she could outwit them and get somewhere safe. But that was before, when running meant leaving nothing behind. 

Now, wherever she went, there was always going to be a Raelle-sized hole in her heart. That, she couldn’t outrun no matter how much she tried and she hope if she stuck around, she could have a shot at repairing it.

She knew she had betrayed Raelle and possibly, irrevocably damaged her trust, but she couldn’t give up on the sliver of hope that they’d be able to find their way through it all and end up on the other side, together. 

But now, there was something else besides twisted truths and past mistakes that might be standing in their way. Between, Raelle’s fainting spell looking not entirely chicken-induced and her stealth return to the tent last night, Scylla had the feeling Raelle was hiding something, probably something that went by the title “General”. 

Scylla was torn between feeling like she had absolutely no right to be jealous given the way she’d lied to Raelle and absolutely wanting to do some boss-level damage to that other woman should she so much as make eye contact with Raelle. It was fine line to walk.

Someone sat down next to Scylla on the log and Scylla looked over to find Anacostia had joined her. 

“Sorry. Did I breach prisoner transport protocol by leaving your surveillance?” Scylla asked.

Anacostia had held out hope that by breaking Scylla out of prison and helping her escape, she might not be on the receiving end of so much vitriol, but she couldn’t necessarily blame Scylla. Holding someone hostage without due process doesn’t necessarily make for the foundations of a beautiful friendship. 

And whether or not Anacostia even wanted that friendship was another question. No matter how remorseful Scylla was, how much she hesitated, she still might have followed through and been responsible for Spree attacks that cost lives.

“No. I actually came to let you know, you’re free. To go anywhere here I mean. I won’t try to s top you, but I’m asking that if at some point you want to leave, you give me some answers in return for getting you out.”

Anacostia had a gut feeling Scylla wouldn’t leave until she knew whether or not Raelle would follow. Although, Anacostia had to admit the odds of these two finding their way back to each other seemed slim. 

“Anything that could help us figure out what we’re up against,” Anacostia said, not pushing too hard.

Scylla knew she didn’t have the answers Anacostia wanted. Anacostia wanted explanations that would absolve General Alder of her guilt and protect the sanctity of Fort Salem. But, all Scylla’s truth would do, was knock that pedestal Anacostia had Alder right on over, and send the image of Fort Salem as a shining beacon of moral righteousness up in smoke.

“You won’t like what I have to say,” Scylla said.

Anacostia nodded her head.

“I know. You won’t like what I’ve got to say either,” Anacostia said.

Scylla looked at her quizzically. 

Anacostia had weighed telling Scylla this with Scylla finding out herself, but she was tired of playing gatekeeper to everyone else’s secrets. 

“Raelle still loves you.” 

Scylla take a sharp inhale.

“She told me herself,” Anacostia continued. 

Anacostia’s voice suddenly felt very far off and the open-air campsite center was feeling ironically claustrophobic. When Scylla looked up people had started to emerge from the tents dotting the encampment.

Scylla didn’t want to be near them or be forced to engage in conversation with anyone, especially this particular one with Anacostia. 

“I’m going to take you up on the offer of freedom and go for a walk,” said Scylla abruptly standing.

She shoved one hand in her pocket and made a beeline beyond the tents at the center to what looked like rows of crops surrounded on either side by trees, not looking back at Anacostia. 

Scylla ventured into the forest, tearing through the foliage until she couldn’t walk anymore and thudded down onto a log.

Without having to analyze everything surrounding her, she finally registered how exhausted she was. Her limbs felt heavy and on a cellular level she could feel herself dragging her existence from one second to the next, willing all of her bodily functions not to cease operation.

She remembered incredulously that this time last week, she was happy. Not just happy, but in unequivocally reciprocated love and lying in her bed with Raelle wrapped around her on a morning like this, with the sun shining bright and the day for the taking. 

Raelle had woken up to find Scylla staring off into the distance and after giving her a soft peck on the cheek, asked “What are you thinking about?” Scylla had responded with “You” when she clearly had not been. Raelle had laughed and slapped her arm, before launching into a very convincing spiel about how despite the option to stay in bed and have lackadaisical, Sunday morning sex, which she normally really would have loved to do, Raelle might positively die without coffee and she didn’t think she could manage to find it on her own. Despite, Scylla’s very different plan for how the morning was going to go, she relented, always unable to resist the urge to get on Raelle’s good side.

Now, she was alone in a forest, with no one on her side. The idea that she might never get another one of those mornings overwhelmed her and she saw tears begin to plop into the dirt, disrupting the still of the earth beneath her feet. 

All of the tension and pain and fear she’d felt since she’d first been grabbed at the Bellweather wedding rushed from where she’d shoved it inside surfacing in her throat and she felt herself gasping for air. Between the ceaseless sobs, memories rushed to the surface faster than she could whack them back into their holes. Memories of Raelle and her at first, but then of the Spree, of the things she’d done, of her parents. She clutched the log beneath her to prevent herself from keeling over and let the pain ricochet around inside her, bumping up against the blame reminding her she had done this to herself and the guilt that she was still alive to feel all of it.

She had believed in the Spree and then betrayed them for Raelle. And now, Raelle believed Scylla had betrayed her. 

Scylla used to believe conscription was a fate worse than death, but the look on Raelle’s face in that dungeon…Scylla would take the oath a thousand times over if she never had to see Raelle in that kind of pain again. She couldn’t even bring herself to believe Anacostia. If what she’d said wasn’t true, about Raelle loving her still, and Scylla held onto that hope only to have it dashed? 

Scylla didn’t think she could bare it. She could take torture and the most debilitating seed sounds produced, but she could not take believing Raelle still loved her only to find out it wasn’t true.

Suddenly, a hand appeared and despite her blurred vision, she was able to tell that it was reaching out to her. 

“You shouldn’t be here.” 

Somewhere deep in the recesses of Scylla’s mind she held out hope that when she looked up it was going to be Raelle. But, instead she saw Cealy. 

What spectacularly bad timing this woman had.

Cealy wasn’t frowning, but she wasn’t looking particularly friendly either. She looked as though she had simply stated a fact, like the third day of the week was Wednesday and was waiting for Scylla to agree. 

Scylla couldn’t even bring herself to be embarrassed for the overt display of emotion. She’d lost it in front of Anacostia and General Alder, what was one more commanding officer to think she was emotionally unhinged?

Then, she remembered this wasn’t just a commanding officer, but someone from Raelle’s past, someone Raelle was startled enough to see that she lost consciousness. Scylla almost challenged her to a duel right there, but thought better of it. She was still wary of what magic these off-the-gridders were involved in.

Scylla ignored the hand and stood up. She brushed down the front of her jacket, although as far as she could tell there wasn’t any dirt on it, wiped her eyes with finality and stood up straight.

Cealy nodded her head towards the edge of the trees and said smiling, “Better this way. You look like you could use breakfast or at least something spiked.”

Scylla didn’t trust this woman as far as she could throw her, which was not very far given Cealy had almost one foot height advantage over Scylla, but Scylla didn’t protest. It wasn’t like she had anywhere else to go.

Cealy carefully picked her way out of the forest, never hesitating, almost like she had also come in here to hide once or twice, though she’d never admit it. 

Cealy had watched from her early morning intelligence briefing as Scylla had headed out beyond the crops and while, she was still incredibly wary of Raelle’s unit and wanted to make sure they didn’t stir up trouble, she also wanted to get a read on Scylla. 

The others were easy. Anacostia was the mama bear of the group, protective, but understanding. Tally appeared to be the caretaker, sympathetic and empathetic, but Cealy got the feeling you didn’t want to mess with her or she’d windstrike your teeth in. Abigail was the bull, in charge in a large way, but also a ride or die who didn’t let go easily. And Raelle, well, Raelle was Raelle. Cealy just wasn’t sure how time had changed what that meant. 

Scylla was harder to piece together. She was quiet and Cealy had thought coming to find her might make her open up, but Scylla’s mouth was set in a grimace and Cealy doubted much was going to come out of there. It didn’t take sleuthing to guess why she’d abandoned her unit to hold vigil.

During Raelle’s ordeal last night, Scylla had largely stood by quietly as the other’s checked to make sure Raelle was OK, but it looked like she desperately wanted to move into the fray, to put a hand on Raelle, to hold her. 

Cealy knew that look. After all, she’d had a fair amount of practice arranging her face into it. And while she’d told Raelle time had been kind to their memories of them, she was also acutely aware the ache of having loved and lost Raelle Collar could leave behind in a body. 

As they ventured out of the forest, Cealy wrestled with saying something reassuring to Scylla, but figured it wouldn’t do either of them any good to indulge in false niceties. Sometimes, Cealy had learned, you just have to live with the pain.

When they finally cleared the last bit of trees, Cealy turned back towards Scylla. 

“If you ever need anything, the flap of my tent is open,” Cealy said and then frowned. “Sorry, that sounded weird. I just mean, while you guys are here, don’t feel like you need to tip toe around. Our resources are for everyone, but try to stay out of the woods. Rumor has it, they’re haunted.”

Cealy winked and began leading Scylla back to the tents. 

Scylla wasn’t sure if that was a genuine invite or a hallow attempt to gain her trust. She didn’t plan on taking Cealy up on it either way.

“Let’s go find your crew,” said Cealy. 

Her crew, Scylla thought. Wouldn’t that be nice.

As they approached the mess hall area, Scylla could see Raelle, Tally and Abigail huddled together conspiratorially as they always were, an impenetrable force of sisterhood. 

“Hey, team,” Cealy said. “Just bumped into Scylla and wanted to show her the way back here.”

Scylla’s eyes moved over the unit at the table. She opened her mouth then shut it again, unsure of whether to defend herself against Cealy's implied accusation she’d gone snooping where she wasn’t supposed to. It wasn’t like there were signs saying where visitors could go for a sampling of local charm, but she also didn’t feel like she had to yet again convince any of them of her innocence.

Except, she conceded, for Raelle. 

Scylla went to look at her, to conspiratorially roll their eyes together as they so often did in the face of authority, but she found nothing of their previous familiarity.

Raelle wasn’t looking at Scylla, but she wasn’t looking at Cealy either. Her gaze had shifted to somewhere neutrally between the two and she was hoping this interaction would end as abruptly as it began. 

Tally, thinking quickly to relieve her friend of her attendance at this ex-girlfriend convention, jumped on the chance to do a little reconnaissance. 

“Would it be possible for you to show us around, Cealy?” Tally asked. “It’s just, we’re really grateful for the hospitality, but we don’t want to go off somewhere we shouldn’t.” 

Tally didn’t really care if Scylla had trespassed, but made it look like she did by throwing Scylla a stern look in an attempt to earn goodwill with Cealy and convince her they meant no harm. Plus, she’d been wanting to ream Scylla out for what she’d done to Raelle since she’d found out Scylla was Spree. But, given the circumstances, treating her like a child in front of a commanding officer would have to do. 

Scylla took notice and soured her face at Tally almost going so far as to stick her tongue out before reigning herself back in. A memory of Tally and her enthusiastically consuming lobster at the Bellweather wedding before all of this had fallen apart surfaced and she was left with a chasmic ache in her chest so vast, it threatened to swallow her whole. The “before” felt impossibly far away and simultaneously, devastatingly close. She quickly chastised herself for throwing a pity party. After all, the “after” was her fault.

“All three of you?” Cealy said not betraying a hint of emotion. She hoped it appeared that she couldn’t care either way who tagged along and she wasn’t even sure what she wanted to answer to be. Seeing Raelle in the light of day had only cemented what she’d deduced last night: if the unit decided to stay here, things were probably going to get emotionally messy, if not physically given the way Scylla seemed to be shooting daggers at her. The sooner they were all on their way the better, she figured.

“I’m still finishing breakfast,” Raelle said, making a point to stab some potatoes with her fork. She and Cealy were on the same page regarding the expediency the unit needed to vacate the premises, especially because she wasn’t interested in cohabitating with her ex permanently. That was a stereotype she was fine avoiding.

“Alright, then you two, follow me.” Cealy said trying to cloak her uneasiness in authority.

Tally and Abigail disentangled themselves from their stumps and followed Cealy out of the tent. Abigail shot back an apologetic look at Raelle who smiled to let her know she would survive. By the time Scylla turned around to see who Raelle was smiling at, the group had turned the corner out of the tent. 

When Scylla looked back, Raelle seemed to be working on studiously memorizing the contents of her plate. Scylla shuffled her feet awkwardly, unsure if she should join Raelle and risk what was sure to be an incredibly uncomfortable conversation or return to the tent where Anacostia would probably launch into a full-fledged interrogation. Cealy had made it clear wandering around to avoid everyone was not an option.

Suddenly, Raelle started up from her seat, almost knocking the dishes askew. She snapped her gaze towards Scylla and then realizing how intense the whole display was, bit her lip and hesitated for a painfully long second.

“We should talk,” Scylla said, making the decision for her. 

They could run from Fort Salem, but, it was turning out, they couldn’t run from each other. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback to Raelle's gay origin story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're following along on this fic, thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy these next two chapters. Click through to the next one for more Scylla and Raelle content.

Sometime ago…

The schoolhouse was unbearably hot. It was that time right before school let out when spring had given way to summer and the humidity was swelling the wood that kept the students of a small, one-room community school in the Cession inside. 

The schoolteacher, Mrs. Yardley, was droning on about one battle or another and Raelle had chosen to ignore her in favor of doodling in the margins of her notebook. She was currently working on a portrait, smudging the minimal notes she’d taken thus far as she struggled to get the nose of her subject right. 

“Ms. Collar!” 

Raelle snapped her head up, attempting to transition from being startled to somewhere closer to pretending like she’d been paying attention the whole time. 

“Yes?” She asked sheepishly. 

“Care to share with the class what we can learn from this war?” 

“Um,” Raelle looked around the classroom hoping for help from one of her classmates, who, granted probably didn’t know who she was given that she rarely spoke in class or to them. 

Finally, she caught a ray of hope in the face of a girl across the room who was attempting to get her attention. Raelle recognized her as one of the girls who was always with that group of boisterously, self-important boys and the girls who wanted to date them. But, this girl Raelle remembered for always tossing her a smile when they crossed paths. The girl was miming something with her hands. She was drawing the thumb of her right hand from left to right across her neck like she was cutting her own throat and then pointing her thumb down. She repeated it again until Raelle’s face registered understanding.

“Um, killing is bad?” Raelle guessed hopeful that the girl wasn’t somehow trying to sabotage her in front of the whole class.

Mrs. Yardley shook her head. 

“No, Ms. Collar. Killing is necessary, especially when it’s to protect our homeland. And next time you’re so inclined to tune out, try not to rely on your fellow classmate, especially one who can’t seem to pass this class.”

The schoolteacher had turned to glare at the girl, who returned the dig with an enormous “fuck you” smile. Raelle could practically see her middle finger mentally raising in the air. She turned towards Raelle and gave her a thumbs up. 

Raelle smiled and turned back to her portrait. She made sure to keep listening though, just in case the teacher had decided to come back for revenge. 

At the end of class as the students rushed out the structures front and only door, Raelle carefully packed her bag making sure not to crumple her drawing. 

“Ms. Collar!”

Raelle almost let out an audible groan before swallowing it whole. She looked out the door where the other students were congregating in the barren yard, making plans to find trouble and disobey their parents. She longed to be out there among them, one of them. 

Instead, she turned back to face Mrs. Yardley, whose expression had softened considerably from the public chastising she’d made Raelle undergo during class. 

“Raelle,” Mrs. Yardley said starting over. “I don’t mean to be so harsh, but you’ve got to start paying more attention to this material. It’s not going to look good for you at basic training when you’re the only student who doesn’t know when our wars took place. Especially, with those High Atlantic kids and their private tutoring giving them a massive head start. OK?” 

Raelle nodded. She understood. Around here, it was well known Raelle was the daughter of one of the most decorated Fixer’s in the armed forces and mostly assumed Raelle would follow in her family’s pro-military footsteps. There was general suspicion in the Cession about the military, but it intermingled with a lingering respect for protecting the country. Raelle suspected this was why, while she was never invited to birthday parties or late night hang outs in basements, kids were at least friendly to her and didn’t try to throw her things in the river. She would take the frigid chill that laced their conduct, so long as they weren’t targeting her when they needed someone to take their adolescent frustrations out on. 

“Good,” Mrs. Yardley said. “Now go enjoy your weekend.” 

Raelle nodded again and reluctantly, headed outside. She knew there would be no one waiting for her out there. By this point, the students had all scattered to their various corners of the Cession to do whatever they did on Friday nights. 

Raelle started to walk the well-worn path down the main road towards her home. Her father would probably be having around, but she might be able to hide from him with some excuse about having to study. 

Then she heard someone yell, “Collar!” from behind her. What was it with people and yelling her name today?

She turned around to see the girl from class. In the light and open air, Raelle recognized her as the daughter of one of the local farmers. They’d never had a proper conversation, but Raelle remembered one time she’d given an impassioned presentation on the evils of corporate interference in regional farming. Raelle had liked the way she spoke with her hands, she thought it made her seem like she knew what she was talking about. 

“Yeah?” Raelle said apprehensively. 

The girl had ran to catch up with Raelle and was doubled over, hands on her knees. Raelle started to bend down to see if she was OK, but jumped back when the girl jerked back to standing. 

“All good!” The girl said. “Just needed a minute there. I’m actually in the running club. Well, it’s less of a club and mostly just me challenging myself to random distances and times. I thought maybe you’d seen me run by your house sometimes.” 

The girl looked hopefully at Raelle. 

Raelle noticed that beyond her incredibly voluminous hair and dazzling cheekbones, both of which Raelle would have killed to have, metaphorically of course, the girl’s eyes were prisms of light, refracting different colors. It had a magical effect of capturing Raelle’s attention and making her forget what she was saying.

Raelle rubbed her arms trying to look less uncomfortable than she felt and try to refocus on answering the question. 

“Uh, sorry, no. I mostly hang out inside. How do you know where I live?” 

“Oh, I make it my business to know where everyone lives in town. Just in case I ever need anything.” The girl winked at Raelle and Raelle felt the earth started to shift beneath her feet. Despite having drank enough water today, she started to feel faint.

“Woah, you okay?” The girl asked. 

“Yeah, sorry, must be the heat,” Raelle said sheepishly. 

“Oh, I get it. It’s a scorcher today. Do you want to sit down?” The girl gestured at a boulder off to the side of the road, one of those that had been worn into a seat miraculously by the elements.

“That might be a good idea,” Raelle said. “Thanks, uh…”

The girl laughed. 

“Right. My name. Whelan, Whelan Cealy. It’s kind of a ridiculous sounding name, like a trick you’d try on a bike. And you’re Collar?” 

Raelle liked the way her name sounded in Whelan’s mouth. Less like a part of an article of clothing and more like someone with an interesting life and novel ideas and an air of mystery. 

“Yeah, but most people just call me Raelle.”

Whelan stuck out her hand. It hung awkwardly in the air for a moment until Raelle realized she was supposed to shake it. Raelle took the hand in hers and shook it. Whelan gave a strong, firm shake and made direct eye contact with Raelle while she did it. Raelle couldn’t tell if it was a professional introductory courtesy or if the girl really wanted to look at her. 

“Feeling better?” Whelan asked. 

Raelle looked down at herself as though she would be able to diagnose why she had felt faint. 

“I think so?” Raelle said. 

“Good,” Whelan said, standing up. “In that case, we’re going to the watering hole.” 

Raelle was confused. She’d never been invited there and she couldn’t figure out why this girl, why Whelan, would want to invite her.

Whelan either didn’t register Raelle’s confusion or wasn’t interested in indulging it. Instead, she held out her hand and helped Raelle up from the rock before beginning to head down the road. 

“Come one,” Whelan yelled from up ahead. “It’s better before dusk. You can actually see the fish.” 

Raelle grabbed her bag and scrambled after Whelan. When she’d finally caught up to her, she locked step with her as they walked down the road. 

“And in exchange for showing you the most incredible fish you’ll ever see and also, getting you out of massive trouble with Mrs. Yardley earlier, you can show me what you were drawing in your notebook.” 

She smiled down from from several inches above Raelle’s head and gave her another wink. 

Raelle could feel her heart skip a beat and this time, she was pretty certain it wasn’t the heat. Looking up into Whelan’s face, she saw she had somehow among getting so much wrong today, managed to get the nose just right. 

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

The watering hole was dazzling in the late afternoon. Light reflected off the pool of liquid sending shards of illumination all over the trees that surrounded it. It felt like a snow globe where instead of snow falling down over a plastic snowman, the rainbow had been shattered and Raelle was wading through the remnants. 

Whelan was a bit ahead and already kicking off her shoes and she turned to face Raelle, waving her through a canopy of leaves that acted as an entrance to the hidden spot.

“Come on in!” Whelan said throwing her arms wide like she was showing Raelle around her house. “I don’t have guests very often.” 

Raelle looked around incredulously. 

“Really? Seems like you would.” 

Whelan stuck her out bottom lip and pouted. “What are you saying, I’m easy?” She turned around facing away from Raelle as she dug into her bag for something.

Raelle’s eyes widened. She hadn’t even thought of Whelan in that way and why would she? That wasn’t how she thought of girls, especially girls like Whelan who would never even approach Raelle. Or would she? Is that was she was doing? Raellee started stuttering. 

“N-no! That’s not what I was saying at all. Just that you seem like you’d have a lot of friends.” 

Whelan looked up from taking her socks off and laughed. 

“Relax, Collar. I’m just messing with you.” 

Raelle breathed an internal sigh of relief.

"Yeah, I’ve got a lot of friends, but I feel like they’d ruin this place, you know? Bring a ton of booze and leave the bottles everywhere, trample over the plants, piss in the pool.” 

She was smiling an enormous smile and Raelle realized she was holding a brown bottle in her hand.

“Now, I just bring a little booze, clean up my bottles, admire the plants and piss in the bushes like a lady,” Whelan said. 

She wriggled her eyebrows at Raelle and Raelle could already feel the moonshine warming her from the inside. Raelle set her bag down and took her sneakers and socks off too. She was suddenly worried there would be more stripping involved in this outing, but Whelan had settled on one of the stones that dotted the perimeter of the pool.

Raelle plopped down on the one next to her and Whelan handed her the bottle. Raelle tried to look sophisticated drinking from it, swallowing like she meant it and stifling any sputtering that wanted to follow. 

Whelan smiled at her again. 

“It’s bad, right?” 

Raelle couldn’t stifle the laugh that bubbled up.

“Yeah, it’s pretty terrible.” She looked down and started pulling at the grass around her stone, worried it was rude to insult the generous beverage offering.

Whelan bumped her with her shoulder. 

“I know. I stole it from my parent’s cabinet. I think they put it there specifically to try and discourage me from drinking, but jokes on them,” Whelan said casting a sideways glance at Raelle and taking another swig. “Doesn’t work.” 

Whelan looked across the pool at a bird sitting in a branch crooning. 

This gave Raelle a chance to consider Whelan. She was more of traditionally beautiful than most of the other girls in the Cession. She looked like she was one step away from becoming someone important, someone who said things people listened to, someone who mattered. Like the light in the enclave, she also seemed to splinter, touching everything around her and blending in with the surroundings. It was a dichotomy that created a tension in the way she carried herself, presented. Like she was caught between being the brightest thing and absorbing everything around her, making everyone else comfortable at the expense of her own self-expression. It was probably why, despite not knowing Whelan, Raelle felt like she belonged right there, folded into Whelan’s presence, teetering on the edge of who she was and who she could be. Here, unlike in her own home, she didn’t feel like an outsider. With Whelan, she was inside something bigger than herself. 

Whelan turned back to Raelle and Raelle whipped around to avoid getting caught spying. Whelan reclined further on the rock, handing the bottle off to Raelle and leaning back on her hands. 

Raelle took the bottle and set it on the ground. Whelan was right, the stuff tasted toxic and Raelle wasn’t interested in showing up at home and having to explain why she was stumbling or slurring her speech. 

“Why did you invite me here?” she asked.

“Woah right to it!” Whelan said, staring up at the sky which was criss-crossed with tree branches.

“I kind of just didn’t want to be alone. And my other friends, they can be, well, loud. You know?”

At this, Whelan looked over at Raelle. 

“You just seemed like you would sit here with me and appreciate how the trees look and not ask me who I’d fuck, marry or kill. Maybe that’s stupid…” Whelan sat up and started inspecting the dirt under her nails. 

“No!” Raelle jumped at the chance to comfort Whelan. “It’s just I don’t get invited out to a lot, or really anything. I think its the whole pro-military vibe of my family.”

Whelan stopped picking at her nails and laughed. 

“Yeah, you guys are a little intense about being for country.”

Whelan looked over at Raelle to make sure she hadn’t over stepped her boundaries.

Raelle chortled. “Yeah, we really are. But, I think it’s to make up for the fact that my dad’s, you know.” She looked at Whelan to bail her out, hoping she wouldn’t have to explain the whole family dynamic to her. 

Whelan only looked confused, though. She leaned over to pick up the bottle and shook it.   
“An, uh alchie?”

Raelle belly laughed at that one and shook her head. 

“No! No. He’s a civilian. He’s not a warlock.” 

Whelan shook off her confusion and started to laugh along with Raelle. 

“Oh, right. OK, makes sense why he’s not in the service then. I thought your mom was this big Fixer and he uh, was discharged or something and you were left with him.” 

Whelan took a sip to hide the fact that she’d had the story completely wrong and was embarrassed to admit it.

Raelle shuffled her feet in the dirt and realized the magic of being with Whelan only extended if Raelle pretended she was someone else, someone who could get invited places out of pity. 

“Is that why you invited me? You felt bad that I might be headed back to my alcoholic father?” Raelle was still boring a hole in the dirt with her eyes to avoid during crimson out of anger and embarrassment. 

Whelan jumped up. 

“No! Oh man, I’m sorry. I swear no one really believes that. It’s just kind of one of those things kids say, you know?” At this point, Whelan as was pacing back and forth along the edge of the pond. 

“I invited you because I just thought you seemed different you know? In a cool way, because like you totally did not give a shit about Mrs. Yardley. I feel like while everyone pretends to not care about school they’re secretly scared she’ll wind strike them into oblivion.” 

Whelan stopped at the far edge of the pool staring hopefully at Raelle, that maybe the joke would get her back into Raelle’s good graces. 

Raelle smiled. 

“I think the only thing that woman can wind strike is a pencil across a desk.” 

Whelan smiled back and started to head back towards Raelle. 

“You’re probably right,” Whelan said and then sheepishly continued, “Can you windstrike?”

Raelle knew she shouldn’t tell Whelan the truth, especially when her mother had warned her that using Seeds off base was strictly prohibited, but the gut reaction to impress Whelan was stronger than her fear of getting in trouble.

“Just a little,” Raelle conceded. My mom’s been teaching me. I guess I’ll be learning more in basic. Are you, you know?”

Whelan looked around like she wished Raelle hadn’t asked, like she wished she was anywhere but. In the Cession it wasn’t taboo necessarily to be a witch, but it wasn’t viewed especially favorably. Raelle began to wonder now if people had been cordial to her because her mother was a powerful Fixer or because they thought her dad was some sort of deadbeat. She decided it didn’t matter what they thought. Except, for maybe, what Whelan did.

Whelan was back on the rock. 

“Yeah, yeah. But, the rest of my family is a mix of civilians and witches, so it’s not exactly a typical bloodline.” 

Raelle nodded sympathetically. She guessed not having a legacy was just as complicated as having a massive one to live up to. 

“Are you going to take the oath?” Raelle asked. 

Whelan chuckled then stopped abruptly.

“I mean, yeah. Conscription’s mandatory isn’t it?” 

Raelle had the feeling Whelan wasn’t being completely truthful, but she also couldn’t imagine that she’d be sitting next to someone who actually planned to draft dodge. But, then again, the Cession wasn’t known for military and government compliance. It was littered with families who had decided for country wasn’t for them. 

“You can do healing stuff, right?” Whelan wanted to pivot away from her future plans. She was a year older than Raelle, so those decision were coming at her faster than she’d have liked. 

Raelle sat up a little taller. Here was something she was good at, something she could use to impress Whelan, which suddenly was her sole focus, inexplicably the only thing she wanted to do.

“Yeah! I’m not as good as my mom, but I’ve been helping people out in town, sort of a witch doctor situation.” 

Whelan liked seeing Raelle excited. It had the vibe of an excited puppy who had no idea how cute it was, making it even more endearing. She wanted to do anything to keep Raelle’s face like this, even something mildly stupid.

Whelan spotted a sharp rock that had broken off her seat and grabbed it off the ground. 

“So like, if I was to say, like prick my finger, you’d be able to fix it?” 

Raelle looked hesitant and Whelan wondered if she was going too far, but Raelle’s face softened.

“Yeah, I could totally fix it. No problem.” 

Raelle took Whelan’s hand in hers and began to spell the finger Whelan had open just a centimeter with the rock. Suddenly the wound began to close, the blood coagulating in hyper speed. Whelan’s mouth dropped open and she stared at Raelle in amazement. 

Raelle thought, if she could bottle that look in a potion bottle, she could cure anything, anywhere just by capturing the way Whelan looked at Raelle like she possessed the whole world in her hands. 

“Woah,” Whelan said breathlessly. “That’s pretty cool.” 

Before Whelan could notice, Raelle tucked her hand behind her back, so she wouldn’t see the way the cut had appeared on Raelle’s hand. 

“Glad you think so,” Raelle said shooting Whelan a smile she hoped was as big and bright as Whelan’s own. She reached down to grab her bag before Whelan registered her hiding her hand. “Um, I’ve got to go. Alcoholic father and all, he’s going to need me to fix him dinner.” 

Whelan laughed. “I hope you don’t hold that against me,” she said putting her hand to her heart. “I swear on all that is holy, I will not listen to the rumor mill again.” 

Raelle laughed. “That a promise?” 

Whelan got up from her rock and started dusting off her jeans. 

“Yeah, so long as you promise to show me that drawing some day. Don’t think I forgot.” 

Raelle gave her a thumbs up as she ducked out of the grove and yelled back, “Name the time and place.”

Raelle was indeed hoping Whelan had forgotten about that, but she was glad she could delay her looking at it. Raelle had gotten the lips all wrong.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raelle and Scylla finally talk and while one of the Privates' fact-finding missions doesn't go as planned, another yields unexpected results.

Scylla started for the greenhouse she’d seen earlier and was relieved to find no one inside, but a massive variety of fauna lining shelves and tables inside. These guys had really thought of everything, outdoor plumbing, green space and what Raelle had to admit was a pretty good breakfast. 

Raelle would rather have endured that demonstration where they cut open the privates throat before healing them than have whatever conversation she was about to. She had been careening right towards it while secretly hoping she could hit the eject button when it came time. She didn’t know where to begin, was it the truth about Cealy? Addressing Scylla’s decision to neglect to mention she was Spree? Their last conversation? She figured she’d let Scylla start, since she had the explaining to do.

When they were far enough into the greenhouse that it was unlikely anyone outside would be able to hear them, Scylla spun on her heels. 

“How do you know her?” 

Raelle stopped in her tracks, stumbling a little over the ground. Well, they were off to the races now.

“Who?” Raelle asked innocently. 

“Cealy,” Scylla said gesturing out to the beyond. “Raelle, it’s pretty clear you know her. You literally fainted when she walked out of her tent and you snuck out last night.” 

Scylla wasn’t even able to hide the hurt in her face. She used to be the one Raelle snuck out for. But, she kicked herself. It was her fault it wasn’t that way anymore. She wasn’t even sure she had the right to push Raelle on how she knew Cealy.

But, Scylla couldn’t walk around wondering what part of Raelle was being hidden from her and shared with Cealy. She’d tried this morning and ended up collapsing into the dirt, unable to bear the torturous thought circles she’d forced herself to endure. It was humiliating to have your ex’s suspected ex find you crying on the ground and she’d prefer not to repeat the experience.

Raelle had decided lying had got them to where they were now. She didn’t want to follow in Scylla’s footsteps. 

“She’s from my part of the Cession. We went to the same school and knew each other, kind of,” Raelle said not going any further.

Raelle didn’t want to lie, but she didn’t want to tell the whole truth either. It was a slippery slope to start at the summit of honesty and only go half way down, but Raelle didn’t know how to talk about her and Cealy. She never had. Never had known how to talk about them and never talked about them, period. All of this was uncharted territory and she was worried one wrong misstep could reveal a mine.

Scylla seemed skeptical this was the whole story, one of her eyebrows was raised and she was working to prevent herself from launching into an interrogation. What right did she have to Raelle, she thought chastising herself again. None. Scylla’d made sure of that. 

Raelle rubbed the back of her neck then looked at Syclla.

She didn't want to run into Scylla years down the road and realize she didn't know who Scylla was. Raelle knew deep down, like it was woven into her DNA, she needed to know Scylla forever. And that might mean repenting for the sin of telling Scylla she was sorry they’d ever met.

“I wanted to apologize for what I said, last time I saw you, I shouldn’t have said…” Raelle trailed off like she couldn’t bring herself to say it all over again. 

Scylla didn’t make her finish. Neither of them needed to relive that interaction. Scylla just wanted them to find a new way of being near each other, if not with.

“It’s OK, I can’t believe you didn't say anything harsher,” Scylla said smiling a little. “You’ve gone soft in your old age, Private Collar.”

Raelle laughed at that, but it almost quickly turned to tears. How much she wanted this back was almost unbearable. The lightheartedness, the shared jokes mostly at Anacostia’s expense. 

When Raelle finally looked at Scylla, she could see it in the way Scylla held onto her smile, just to feel like they were back in her bed in that tiny dormitory room, she was desperate for it too. But, Scylla remembered why is was gone and the weight of the part she played in that drew her mouth back into a line. 

“Rae, you shouldn’t be apologizing, it should be me,” Scylla said. 

She took a hard swallow and steeled herself. Scylla would tell Raelle. She would tell her it all, how she got to Fort Salem, what she did, whose life she’d took. She would tell her the truth and let her make the decision on what to do with that information. If it was to cut Scylla out of her life, completely, Scylla would understand. She just hoped Raelle chose a different sentence, even if Scylla’s crimes warranted the harshest punishment. Everything Scylla’d done had been for freedom and justice and now it just seemed like with Raelle in the picture, the cost of those ideals was a price she wasn’t willing to pay anymore.

Before she could make her confession, Raelle had started talking.

“You said not to believe everything they said and I want to know the what part of everything they said was true, what was real…”

“You and me, that was all real,” Syclla interrupted earnestly. Her voice and face was urgent, like if Raelle heard nothing else, Scylla wanted her to hear this.

“My love for you was real, is real,” said Scylla. Honesty about her past was hard, but this part was easy. “Was what you said, you know, about you not loving me anymore true?” 

Scylla hesitated unsure if she wanted the answer. 

“I’m just wondering, you know, for logistical purposes.” 

Scylla gave Raelle a small hopeful smile. 

Raelle returned it instantly shooting relief through Scylla. 

“No, it wasn’t. I was just scared and angry and it was the thing I could think of to hurt you the most, but no, I still do,” Raelle said. 

Scylla skated over the fact that Raelle hadn’t actually said the word “love”. It was a small comfort in this gigantic oasis of uncomfortable they’d found themselves in. Scylla could live on the island of that sentence, forever, if Raelle never gave her anything more. It would be enough for Scylla, especially when she felt like she didn’t even deserve it anymore. 

“I know we can’t start over, but maybe, though, we start by just being part of the same unit? And when I’m ready for the answers to my questions, you agree to give them?” Raelle proposed. She wasn’t ready to go back to the way things were especially without knowing the extent of Scylla’s duplicity, but she needed Scylla in her life somehow. Even if it was just as sparing partners.

Scylla nodded, hesitantly, because she remembered that she was public enemy number one for Tally and Abigail. She went to open her mouth and then shut it upon hearing what was now becoming an annoyingly familiar voice.

“And this, is where we’ve built out a greenhouse for everyone to enjoy a bit of safe, secluded nature. Plus, we grow some herbs.”

Scylla did everything in her willpower to stop her eyes from rolling. Again, with the spectacularly bad timing.

Raelle whipped around to see Cealy stepping into the space with Abigail and Tally in tow looking ragged and tired. 

“Oh! You guys have already found it!” Cealy gave her best impression of not surprised, surprise. She looked back to Abigail and Tally whose eyes were wide and ping-ponging back and forth between Raelle and Scylla. 

“Um, yeah,” Raelle said. She couldn’t really come up with any more intelligible words. Two women she’d said “I love you” to in one place at once was overwhelming to say the least, but when she added in the looming Spree secrets and Cealy popping up, it was a bridge too far.

“I’m actually going to go lie down,” Raelle said. “Still recovering from last night.” She sent a pointed look Cealy’s way to let her know almost choking was not what had left her exhausted and bruised. 

“Oh sure,” Cealy said. “I’ll show you all the way out. And I wouldn’t recommend getting too close to anything in here.” Cealy shrugged. “Someone thought it would be funny to take all the plant markings off to mess with everyone, so now it’s tough to tell which is poisonous and which isn’t. And no one’s volunteered to do it, because, well as you can see, it’d take some time.”

“I’d be happy to! I mean, might be hard for me to do it alone, but if there’s anyone you’ve got to help me?” Abigail suggested. 

To Raelle this looked like Abigial’s attempt at intelligence gathering since it looked like their tour hadn’t left her and Tally with enough breath to launch their inquisition, but Cealy just seemed pleased to have a volunteer. 

“Thanks a bunch, Abigial,” Cealy said. “I’ll get you set up with Foster, they’re our resident botanical expert." 

Cealy turned to head out and Abigail and Tally widened their eyes at Raelle behind her back looking for an indication of how the talk with Scylla had gone. Raelle ignored them, shooing them forward and they glanced around her back at Scylla before hurrying after Cealy. Raelle followed close behind and Scylla brought up the rear making sure not to sidle up to Raelle and lock step. 

What once had been a comforting move of hers at Fort Salem, spotting Raelle across the green and making her way next to her to surprise her, was now off limits. It was a gut punch, that almost made her collapse, but she didn’t want Cealy to have to pick her up off the ground again. She would find a way to move on, knowing Raelle felt the same, even if Scylla couldn't do anything with that. 

When they were out of the thicket, Cealy started to head off to her tent. 

“I’ll find Foster and bring them over to your guy’s tent,” said Cealy with a wave. 

Raelle made a beeline for their temporary living quarters.

Abigail followed and Tally looked back at Raelle. She felt badly about her earlier passive aggression. Seemed like Scylla would be around for a while and she didn’t need anymore enemies, especially when she had the whole of Fort Salem to count as one.

“We’ll see you later?”

Scylla, pleasantly surprised by the acknowledgement of her existence, gave a reassuring nod and headed off to find food since she’d missed breakfast.

In the tent, Raelle flopped down on the bed so hard for a moment, she’d worried she’d broken it. 

“What. was. that?” Abigail said lying down on the one opposite. Tally nudged Raelle, so she could join her on the bed and again, for a moment, it felt like they were back at Fort Salem, unaware of the threats to their existence just beyond their door. 

Raelle let out an award-winning sigh and then sat up on her elbows.

“I told her I still loved her,” Raelle said. 

Abigail’s eyes widened and Tally let out a yelp.

Raelle groaned. 

“I know, I know,” Raelle said. “It’s just I had already kind of lied about how I knew Cealy and another lie felt like I was getting into sinning territory.” 

Abigail huffed and rolled her eyes. 

“Yeah, the Spree agent who tried to hand you over to the enemy definitely deserves heaps of compassion,” Abigail said.

Tally raised her eyebrows at Abigail in a “We talked about this” way. Tally turned to Raelle.

“Despite Abigail’s tone, we support you. Whatever you decide, whoever you decide.”

Raelle cast a suspicious glance between the two of them. They were a unit and she didn’t like the idea they'd been discussing her behind her back, but then again some support was better than no support, so she took it. 

“Enough about me, how’d the tour go?” Raelle was curious both about the tour and their tour guide. 

"It was very…factual?” Abigail said. 

“Yeah, it was just like this is here and that’s where that is. She didn’t say anything about weapons stores and their clandestine assassin force, though, which isn’t surprising given that I got the sense she's suspicious about why we’re here,” Tally said. 

“I might have something to do with that,” Raelle said. “I kind of told her we're not with Fort Salem anymore.”

Tally smiled at her. 

“Oh, was this at your secret meeting last night?” 

Abigail let out a giggle. Even in the middle of deserting the world’s most powerful combat force and shacking up with a mysterious group of nature loving killers, they could still manage to gossip like schoolgirls. 

“How’d you know about that? You guys were asleep,” Raelle said crossing her arms, hating she’d been found out.

“I don't think any of us are doing much sleeping these days,” Tally said. “Plus, I really had to go to the bathroom and heard your voice from her tent. Sounded…heated.” 

Raelle grabbed her pillow and whacked Tally with it. 

“It was not heated,” Raelle said. “It was just a lot. She’s a lot.”

Abigail reached across and squeezed Raelle’s knee. 

“We know,” said Abigail. “Your nap idea doesn’t sound so bad right now.” 

Tally looked around and realized they were missing a member. 

“Where’s Anacostia?”

“Probably off committing all the rules of this place to memory,” Abigail said. 

Tally snorted. 

“Probably,” Tally said. “But, I’m going to go look for her just so I can put my mind at ease that she’s not running back to Fort Salem to tell on us to Alder.” 

She hopped off the bed.

“Collar, care to join me?” 

Raelle figured Tally was right. She wasn't going to get much sleep anyway. 

“Yeah, I’ll join,” said Raelle. “I have a few questions about how a Spree agent escapes from the depths of Fort Salem. Maybe she’ll feel like answering. Abigail you in?”

Abigail shook her head. 

“I'm going to wait for this mysterious Forest. Hopefully, they can tell me more about this place than your girlfriend has.”

Raelle kicked Abigail’s shin. 

“Ow!” Abigail yelled in mock pain and made a real show of doubling over and grabbing her leg. 

“Enough of that,” Raelle yelled over her shoulder as Tally and headed out of the tent.

“Where do you think she is?” Raelle said to Tally. Tally looked around the grounds which were buzzing with people tending to what looked like large patches of vegetable gardens, getting an early start to their drinking and oddly, a cluster of people painting a man perched on a stump. 

“This place is so weird,” Tally said. 

“Yeah, have to agree with you there,” Raelle said. “More commune than barracks.” 

“They probably just hide it really well,” Tally said. “Want to try there?”

Tally was pointing at a wooden cabin a ways off past Cealy’s tent. It didn't have any armed guards outside, giving it an approachable air.

“Sure, why not,” Raelle said.

As they picked their way through the various activities, some of the others gave them suspicious glances, but most greeted them with a smile. One went so far as to invite them to join the mid-day drinking revelry. They declined, although Raelle almost gave into the pull of drowning her emotional overload in toxic concoctions of fermented barley, corn and wheat. 

When they finally reached the structure Tally tentatively pushed open the door to reveal a two floor library with hundreds of leather bound volumes. They both gazed up at the open air ceiling that let light drape over the space and marveled at the rich, wooden carved ornate staircase that led to a second floor.

Their eyes came to rest in the middle of the room and Raelle had to do a double take at what she saw to make sure she accidentally hadn’t ingested Salva and hallucinated. 

Anacostia was bound and gagged, her whip holding her wrists and ankles together. 

Tally looked around for anyone else in the room and spotted a figure crouched in the corner. Tally and Raelle grabbed their whips at their hips, opened their vocal chords and charged.

But, something about the curly hair of their enemy made Raelle stop short of launching the whip forward. Tally registered Raelle’s reservation and skidded to a hault. They looked at each other. It could be, it wasn’t possible. 

A familiar figure stepped out of the shadows and grinned.

“What’s up shitbird?”


End file.
